Mine
by GeniaTheParadox
Summary: PWP of the kinky kind with dom!John and sub!Sherlock. John is sick of the Woman's constant texting and decides to remind Sherlock who he belongs to. Rated M for a very good reason.


So here's some kinky PWP at its finest. For you Sherlockians who aren't familiar with all of my old Glee stuff, this is probably my... oh God, I can't even remember how many kinky, spanking, sub/dom fics I've written. I don't know. A lot. I think it's becoming a problem.

Anyway, this is technically based on Scandal in Belgravia, but really out of character obviously. Being porn and stuff, of course. Sub!Sherlock and dom!John. Let's do this.

So yeah. Reviews would be lovely.

And I don't own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson. I'm just making them have kinky sex because of reasons.

* * *

**Mine **

_Ahhh. _

John frowned in irritation as that orgasmic female sigh chimed from Sherlock's phone. Again. He was really starting to bloody hate that sound, not to mention that sodding _woman_. Sherlock only glanced away from his microscope for a second, noticing that his phone was several feet away and deciding to ignore it. But John, however, was currently glaring at the newspaper he was failing to read.

_Ahhh. _

Oh, for goodness sake, John thought furiously. He threw his paper aside, that damn sound testing his patience to breaking point. That was it.

"Sherlock," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

"Mmhmm," Sherlock hummed without looking away from his experiment.

"Turn your phone off," John said slowly.

"Mmm?"

"Turn your damn phone off!"

Sherlock finally looked up from his microscope. "But I never turn my phone off. What if I miss an important text?"

"The only texts you've had today have been from that bloody Adler woman, and I'm sick of it," John said bitterly. "Honestly, the way she carried around you... and the way you did around her. It's almost as if you've forgotten who you belong to."

The atmosphere in the flat changed in an instant. His experiment forgotten, Sherlock stood up and made his way over to John, kneeling tentatively at his feet as if the cosy old armchair he sat on was a throne.

"I haven't forgotten," he said in an unusually small voice. "John, I swear to you, Irene..."

"Don't say her name."

"...the _Woman_, she means nothing to me, John, nothing. I belong to you. I will always belong to..."

_Ahhh._

John gripped the armrests of his chair tightly. "Turn your phone off."

"But John, I never turn my..."

"Turn it off."

"But..."

"Don't make me have to tell you again, Sherlock," growled John, his voice low with anger. "Turn it off _now_. That's an order."

Sherlock shrank into himself slightly at John's commanding tone, and quickly got up to do as he was told. Once he was done he knelt once again at John's feet, letting out an appreciative sigh when John gently stroked his hair.

"Good boy," said John, his soft voice still with a commanding edge. "But you're going to have to do a lot more to convince me to forgive you, Sherlock. I'm going to have to remind you who exactly you belong to."

Sherlock shivered slightly. "Shall I go get the riding crop?"

"No," John said firmly. "It's too much of a reminder of _her_. Get the paddle instead."

Sherlock rushed off to his bedroom, returning quickly with a heavy leather paddle which his graciously handed over to John.

"Strip."

Sherlock instantly obeyed, quickly stripping off his clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor. Once he was completely naked, he stood in front of John, awaiting further instruction. John was pleased to see that Sherlock was already half hard. He stood up and walked a slow circle around the detective, carrying himself with a dominate military stance that made Sherlock shrink into himself even more. Around Sherlock's neck were John's army dog tags, shining silver against the pale chest, a sign of ownership never to be removed.

"Assume the position."

Sherlock followed orders immediately, climbing on to John's armchair so his knees were on the cushions and his hands were braced against the back of the chair, his arse on display for John standing behind him. John stood back and simply admired the view for a while, taking in the sharp angles of Sherlock's slender, beautiful body, the pale skin already flushed with arousal. He placed his hand on Sherlock's hip, stroking Sherlock's thigh with the paddle.

"Who do you belong to, Sherlock?" he asked.

"Y-you," Sherlock stammered quietly.

"I can't hear you," John said sternly. "Who do you belong to?"

"You! Dr. John Hamish Watson, I belong to you!"

"That's right," John smirked. "You're _mine_. Now let me see... the Woman has been texting you for the past three days, twenty-three times already, if I'm not mistaken. Add that to the five times that I had to tell you to turn your damn phone off today and that makes twenty-eight. You'll be sure to keep count, won't you?"

"Yes, John," Sherlock breathed with a slightly frantic nod.

"Good boy."

Without another word, John brought the paddle down on Sherlock's arse hard, the sound of the smack echoing around the room. Sherlock gasped at the sudden pain, but obediently whispered a very timid "...one." The hits continued, each one feeling harder than the last. Sherlock's whole body shook as he counted every one, the skin of his backside feeling raw and sensitive, the pain shooting through his body and making him rock hard. By the time he let out a very shaky "...t-t-twenty-eight," his cock was leaking copious amounts of pre-come, tears were stinging his eyes, and he was clinging onto the back of the armchair for dear life.

John dropped the paddle on the floor and took Sherlock's sore, red arse cheeks in each hand, gently kneading and massaging as Sherlock winced and whimpered from the pleasure and pain. John's erection was pressing rather uncomfortably in his jeans.

"Such a good boy for me, Sherlock," he whispered, his voice husky with arousal. "And you're all mine, aren't you?"

"Y-yes, John," Sherlock said, brushing the tears from his eyes with a shaking hand. "I'm all yours... always... forever."

"On your knees in front of me," John ordered. "Show me how much you love me."

Sherlock moved as quickly as he could in the state he was in, sliding off the armchair and onto his knees in front of John. He nuzzled his face into the bulge in John's jeans, before his long, nimble fingers quickly undid them and pulled them down along with his boxers, finally releasing his hard on from the restrictive material. Sherlock wrapped his hand around the base of the beautiful cock in front of him and dragged his tongue up the length, flicking his tongue over the head to lap up the pre-come before he sucked the glands into his mouth. He took a deep breath through his nose, relaxing his throat, and took all of John's cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue as he did until his nose was pressed against the course public hair.

John hissed in pleasure, tangling his fingers in Sherlock's dark curls and gently tugging in a way that he knew his lover enjoyed. Sherlock bobbed his head back and forth, working his tongue around the thick length filling his mouth, moaning around it as he fondled John's balls with one hand. John's grip on Sherlock's hair tightened as the pleasure increased. He bucked his hips forward, fucking Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock hummed in appreciation, slackening his jaw and relaxing his throat, encouraging John to _use_ him. He struggled not to touch himself as John pulled his hair, moaning gruffly, clearly close to the edge – coming before he was told would only result in more punishment.

Finally John let out a loud groan as his orgasm hit him, pulling Sherlock's head back so he could spill all over Sherlock's face and into his open, needy mouth. Sherlock stroked John through his climax, licking him clean, before gathering all the come off his face and neck with his fingers and sucking those clean too. He looked up at John expectantly, pleased to see that his dominate lover had a smile on his face.

"Good boy," John said breathlessly. "Very, very good. You want to come, don't you?"

"Yes, yes," Sherlock said, nodding, his voice sounding scratchy and used. "Please, John, _please._"

"Turn around for me," said John as he stripped of clothes.

Sherlock wanted to watch John strip, but turned around obediently. John knelt behind Sherlock once he was completely naked, once again massaging his lover's sore arse cheeks with both hands and making Sherlock hiss. He spread Sherlock's cheeks apart gently, his thumbs brushing against the rim of his hole teasingly. The sight along was enough to make John get hard again.

"So beautiful like this," he whispered, making Sherlock shivered under his touch. "And you're all _mine_. She could never make you feel this way. She could _never_ do this to you."

John reached under the cushion of the armchair and retrieved one of the sachets of lube that Sherlock had hidden all over the flat for whenever they didn't make it to the bedroom. He ripped it open with his teeth and squeezed most of it on fingers, before smearing the cool liquid over Sherlock puckered hole. Sherlock whimpered in pleasure as John dragged his tongue over his hole, lapping and probing with the very tip of his tongue before adding one finger all the way up to the knuckle. Sherlock soon relaxed enough for John to add a second finger, twisting and scissoring as his tongue continued to tease around the rim. John's skilful fingers soon found Sherlock's prostate, making Sherlock cry out and arch his back in pleasure, moaning John's name loud and needy.

"_All mine,"_ John murmured, stroking Sherlock's prostate harder, adding a third finger to stretch him out more.

"Y-yes, yes, all yours," Sherlock groan, his voice faltering as he pushed back into John's fingers. "All yours, John... oh God, please... fuck me, John... fuck me..."

John smirked. "You know I love it when you beg. You're so desperate for me. You're such a slut for me. No one else. Just _me_."

Sherlock whimpered disappointedly when the fingers were removed, but he trembled in anticipation for what was coming next. John used the rest of the lube to slick himself up, and lined his cock up with Sherlock's hole. John pushed into Sherlock in one swift movement and began to thrust in and out without even bothering to give Sherlock a chance to get used to the intrusion. John held tightly onto Sherlock's hips, tight enough to leave bruises on the ghostly pale skin as he slammed into Sherlock's arse hard and fast.

Sherlock's moans were loud, needy and whorish. He pushed back wantonly against John, his cries muffled in the armchair cushions. He as desperate to touch his own aching cock but knew he wouldn't be allowed. He keened in pleasure and pain when John pulled him up by his hair and his mouth latched onto Sherlock's creamy skin, leaving possessive red marks all over his neck and shoulder, positioned just right so some marks couldn't be hidden by Sherlock's clothes.

"All mine," John grunted, fucking Sherlock even harder. "You're all mine... ahhh... she could never make you feel like this... tell me who you belong to, Sherlock..."

"Oh God... oh _fuck_... you!" Sherlock gasped, torn apart with pleasure."Oh John, I'm all yours... _all yours_... don't stop, John, please don't stop..."

"I wouldn't fucking dream of it," John groaned. He wrapped his hand around Sherlock's dripping cock, stroking quickly in time with his hard thrusts, his other hand still tugging on Sherlock's hair. "Come for me, beautiful... let me see you fall apart..."

It didn't take long for the waves of pleasure to crash over Sherlock. He clung onto the armchair as his whole body shook, ropes of come covering John's hand as he yelled his lover's name. A few more hard, rough thrusts and John was coming too, filling his lover up with his seed as his muffled his own cry of pleasure by sinking his teeth into Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock collapsed against the armchair seat, hardly able to breath, and winced slightly as John pulled out of him. Come leaked from Sherlock's hole, and John carefully slipped one finger inside, Sherlock whimpering from oversensitivity. John removed his wet finger and reached around to offer it to Sherlock, who sucked it into his mouth and hummed contently at the taste of John on his tongue.

Sherlock was bruised and sore, come-splattered and debauched, but he was in no hurry to clean himself up. John sat naked in his armchair with an equally nude Sherlock curled up on his lap, the couple kissing softly.

"Such a good boy for me," John said with a smile, stroking Sherlock's thigh. "I love you so much."

Sherlock smiled drowsily and kissed his lover on the lips. "I love you too, John. Only you. I'm all yours."

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Hope you enjoyed the smut, Humble Readers.

xxx


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